


Not Possible.

by wafflenull



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock has cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflenull/pseuds/wafflenull
Summary: A small angsty piece about Sherlock having cancer and John being there with him.





	Not Possible.

John’s head hurt every single day. He had to watch the only good thing in his life get destroyed. He stood in front of 221B, staring at nothing in particular. He took a deep breath and then let it go, trying to loosen the strings tied around his lungs. It didn’t work. Despite that, he went inside. He looked around, taking in the case files, tea cups, and whatever else Sherlock had thrown around that day. He tidied up a bit and then made his into Sherlock’s bedroom.

Sherlock was asleep. A heaving sound filled the room. Sherlock’s face was wrinkled and his sunken cheeks were incredibly pale. He legs lay above the blanket, swollen and leaking a fluid even the doctors could not identify. Sherlock called it “cancer-fluid.” Sherlock heaved again, trying to bring the air into his dying body. John felt the tears stinging his eyes but pushed them away.  
He sat down on the bed and began to comb his fingers through Sherlock’s sweaty curls. He picked Sherlock’s upper body up and scooted further onto the bed. He put Sherlock’s head on his chest and continued combing through his curls, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m here,” he whispered. Sherlock twitched slightly upon that.

“Hi, John,” his voice said, croaky and pain-ridden. Another kiss on the forehead. “I’m right here, Sherlock. Don’t worry about anything,” John said, imprisoning the tears in his tear ducts. 

“I’m not worried,” Sherlock said. He reached up and put his hand on John’s cheek. “I’ll always be there with you.”

John laughed slightly. He knew that Sherlock was only saying that for John’s benefit. Sherlock did not believe in the afterlife. “Really? Like a ghost?” 

John knew Sherlock was smiling. “More like in your heart,” Sherlock said. “Just like you’ll always be in mine.” One of the tears managed to break out of its prison, but the rest remained locked away.

John continued to comb Sherlock’s curls. “You can go, you know,” John whispered. “I don’t want you to hurt.” Sherlock remained silent. “Of course, I want you to stay but I also want you to be able to,” John struggled for the right words. “Live pain-free. Which is not a possibility now.” John waited for Sherlock to say something.

“I’m afraid.” John continued to wait. He knew that Sherlock had more to say. About 30 seconds passed in silence. “I don’t want to be nothing. I never thought I’d be afraid of death, and I’m not, but I’m afraid of what will happen to me afterwards.”  
John planted another kiss on Sherlock’s sweaty curls. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t let you become nothing. As long as I’m alive, you’ll be alive. I will keep your memory alive. And so will Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. Hell, even Mycroft will,” John said.  
Sherlock turned his head to look up at John. There was a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.  
“I love you more,” John said.

“Not possible,” Sherlock said, his smile growing.  
They fell asleep, Sherlock still on John’s chest, John still in his clothes. But John did not care because all he wanted was to lay with Sherlock. 

John woke up and immediately started combing through Sherlock’s curls again. Sherlock felt good, not good like a healthy person, but good like he could leave the house. John got Sherlock’s wheelchair and they went to a nearby park.  
Sherlock sat in his wheelchair, right next to the bench on which John was. They held hands and watched other people go about their days.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock whispered. He almost never spoke at full volume these days. He didn’t have the energy. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” John said, looking over at his husband. “Yes, I do. I shouldn’t have wasted all this time. I shouldn’t have pretended I had no emotions. I wasted so much time that we could have had before things got this bad,” he said, again whispering. “That’s not solely your fault. I was at fault too. I should have spoken up. I knew you had emotions but left you to think that I didn’t. We both made mistakes, but we’re together now and that’s all that matters.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand and turned back to watch the other people. Sherlock’s gaze lingered on John’s face, a small smile on his own face. 

“I love you, John,” he said, at full volume. John turned back to him and planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you more,” John said, smiling. “Not possible.”


End file.
